THE recent conviction of the former Director of the Sabah State Water Department (JANS) marked more than just the conclusion of another high-profile corruption case involving a public official. In a landmark judgment, Ag Tahir Mohd Talib, 63, was sentenced to 96 years in jail and fined RM284.3 million on 12 counts of money laundering linked to Sabah’s water infrastructure.
It was the culmination of years of painstaking investigations, strategic prosecution, institutional endurance, and the quiet sacrifice of many officers whose names will never appear in headlines.
For me personally, the case carried memories that stretched back to 2022. I was asked to fly to Sabah to assist in crisis communications when the water department’s former deputy director, Teo Chee Kong, was about to be granted a discharge not amounting to an acquittal (DNAA) by the Special Corruption Court.
At the time, many Sabahans were watching the case intently, and we anticipated severe public anger and backlash following the DNAA.
True enough, when the verdict was announced, people believed the case was collapsing or that invisible hands were pulling strings to let Teo off the hook—despite him being initially charged with 146 counts of money laundering and subsequently fined a whopping RM30 million compound under the Anti-Money Laundering Act (AMLA).
What the public did not know then, because it could not yet be publicly disclosed, was that the move formed part of a larger, calculated prosecution strategy.
The objective was twofold: first, to recover as much illicit money as possible through the compound, and secondly, to secure Teo's cooperation by turning him into a key witness. This would significantly strengthen the prosecution’s case against the bigger fish—the jerung, so to speak—department Director Ag Tahir himself.
At that point, our role in communications was delicate and difficult. We had to manage public perception without compromising prosecutorial strategy or the judicial process. We could not reveal operational considerations. Yet, we also understood the deep anger and skepticism among ordinary Sabahans who had watched the scandal unfold since the shocking cash seizures years earlier—an amount second only to the 1MDB scandal.
Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission (MACC) officers involved in the 2016 raid told me they had never seen such staggering amounts of cash. It was hidden inside the walls of the director’s home and his vehicles, alongside luxury items like Rolex watches, jewelry, and designer handbags beyond comprehension.
Our first priority in communications was to clarify that a compound was not an acquittal. It was a punitive measure, a form of asset recovery, and accountability executed through an alternative legal mechanism.
During an impromptu press conference outside the courthouse, I guided the former MACC Legal and Prosecution Division Senior Director, Datuk Faridz Gohim Abdullah, to emphasize that the "RM30 million compound was one of the highest ever imposed," rather than letting the narrative simply be that "Teo was granted a DNAA."
Today, with the conviction secured, we can finally see that the prosecution's strategy worked.
This case also serves as a stark reminder of why investigating corruption is a completely different beast compared to other crimes. People often complain: “Why do corruption cases take so long? Why did 1MDB take years, plagued by so many delays and appeals? Is it just to find a way to let the culprits off?”
Corruption is not like a robbery, where victims immediately come forward and witnesses openly cooperate. Corruption is a hidden ecosystem of mutual benefit. Both the giver and the receiver profit, meaning both parties have a strong incentive to remain silent. Furthermore, evidence is often buried beneath layers of complex transactions, proxies, and shell companies created by professional enablers such as lawyers, accountants, and bankers.
Despite these hurdles, corruption cases handled by the MACC have consistently maintained a conviction rate of around 90%. This success is aided by the Special Corruption Courts, established in 2011 to expedite cases under the oversight of judges with specialized expertise in financial and corruption matters.
In the Sabah Watergate scandal, the breakthrough reportedly began with anonymous complaints fueled by growing public frustration: How could there be persistent water shortages when massive federal allocations had already been channeled into Sabah’s water infrastructure? But suspicion alone does not equal evidence.
This is where Intelligence-Based Investigation (IBI), aggressively developed and institutionalized under Tan Sri Azam Baki’s tenure as the former head of investigations, became crucial.
Instead of waiting passively for complaints and hard evidence, investigators built intelligence trails. They planted operatives within the department, identified behavioral patterns, mapped out financial footprints, and located transactional links to uncover the wider network. That methodology eventually led to one of the largest corruption investigations in Malaysian history.
Looking back now, with the conviction secured, the broader picture finally becomes clear. Yet, beyond the courtroom lies an uncomfortable reality: high-profile corruption cases are almost always weaponized politically.
I have watched political forces and various vested interests—including NGOs, corporate players, and partisan actors—alternately praise or condemn the MACC depending on whether its investigations served their specific narratives. This exposes how easily public discourse can be manipulated by competing interests.
Every procedural delay is branded as "proof" of a conspiracy. Every legal strategy is twisted into "evidence" of political interference. Repeat a narrative enough times, and perception eventually hardens into "truth," regardless of the actual facts.
To be fair, Malaysia’s trust deficit did not emerge from a vacuum. The trauma of the 1MDB scandal deeply scarred public confidence in state institutions, governance, and due process. Many Malaysians now instinctively assume the worst whenever there are delays or complex prosecutorial decisions. I understand that rage, because I was angry too.
At the same time, we must be careful not to allow legitimate skepticism to degenerate into a permanent cynicism that can be easily manipulated for partisan agendas. There are actors on all sides of the political divide who profit from destroying public trust in state institutions because distrust itself is politically lucrative.
This is why corruption cases should not be judged solely through the lens of daily headlines, political narratives, or social media outrage. Justice, especially in large-scale corruption cases, is often slow, methodical, and painfully technical. Even when the courts fail to secure a conviction, that is part and parcel of the justice system. You do not win every case.
Sometimes, justice is delayed not because nothing is happening, but because building an airtight corruption case against powerful individuals demands extraordinary patience, discipline, and courage.
In Malaysia, as in many democratic nations, the judicial system allows multiple layers of appeal to ensure fairness and prevent miscarriages of justice. While necessary, these safeguards inevitably prolong cases as defendants exhaust every legal avenue available to them. It is messy, frustrating, and often agonizingly slow—but that is the reality of the rule of law.
The Sabah Watergate conviction is a resounding victory for the investigators, intelligence officers, and prosecutors who labored silently for nearly a decade behind a wall of public cynicism to bring this case to its conclusion.
Most people will never know their names. They will not trend on social media, nor will they appear in headlines, political ceramahs, or popular podcasts. But while others were busy crafting political narratives, these officers were painstakingly tracing documents, following money trails, interviewing witnesses, building intelligence, and preparing rock-solid evidence to bring the culprits to justice. - May 22, 2026
Note: Teo Chee Kong was eventually Discharged and Acquitted (DAA) on March 17, 2022, after fulfilling the conditions of the asset recovery compound.
***Jules Rahman Ong is the Deputy Director of the Strategic Communications Division at the Malaysian Anti-Corruption Commission (MACC)
(The views expressed in this opinion piece are solely his own and do not represent the official position, policy or statement of the Commission)
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